


Look and See

by jestwane (transience)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi with piercings, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Punk, Insecure Kuroko, Insomniac Akashi, Kuroko with piercings, M/M, Punk!Akashi, Punk!Kuroko, implicit abuse on Akashi's father's part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transience/pseuds/jestwane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without his multiple piercings, cuffs and other defining accessories, Kuroko might as well be invisible. His family has always tolerated his lifestyle, but they draw a line at formal functions, such as this company wedding. He resigns himself to an everning of being overlooked, but what happens when he meets a redhead with captivating eyes who seems to walk through life at his own pace, who seems so alike and so different from him, and best of all can actually SEE him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirror, Mirror

Akashi loathed weddings with a passion as bright as the red of his hair.

He would always be met with judging glances, often laced with disapproval, as the many guests caught sight of his multiple piercings, and of course, the hair. A glare in their directions sufficed to stop their furtive glances, but his emperor eye should not be reduced to such an unworthy task.

After all, Akashi did dress appropriately for such events, he daresay he looked far more dashing than most if not all of the men attending. Nary a skull nor any other possibly offending feature was present in any of his ‘embellishments’, and he tolerated a formal suit, albeit not as fitted or tailored as most of the attendees donned. In Akashi’s opinion, it suited him rather well, pun unintended. The shoulders were stiff, but not padded, allowing him a fairly authoritative figure without excess, and the looser back gave him the quality of being ravishing without trying too hard (or at all, in his case).

 “Would you be bringing a date for tonight’s event nanodayo?” Midorima inquires, adjusting his glasses unnecessarily. Had Akashi not known his childhood friend (and also the closest to a worthy rival Akashi had ever found in shogi and basketball) for nearly a decade, he might have thought Midorima was kidding.

“Who would I bring, Shintarou?”

Midorima shrugs as Akashi turns his back and paces towards the door, pausing just before he exits.

“Have fun with Kazunari,” Akashi says as he turns the corner, and smirks as his emperor eye catches sight of a bright red Midorima.

 

* * *

“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko protests in a monotone. “I don’t want to take these off.”

“Ehh Tetsu, your parents will be mad at me if you don’t.”

Kuroko sighs, and obliges. What a nice friend he is.

“At least let me do it myself?”

Aomine exits the room, and it had nothing to do with the magazine with Mai-chan on it Kuroko had proffered. Nothing at all.

Kuroko’s room had four undecorated white walls, save a rather large mirror hanging above a dresser. He drags a chair over silently, and fingers his ear studs, his lip ring, and traces the sparse tattoos peeking past his tank top.

As he takes them off, and dons his long sleeved collared blouse, he swears he can see himself slowly disappearing. People ask him why his appearance screamed ‘attention-seeking’, but honestly, it was better to be singled out than to be ignored, or to fit into a category little approved of, but belong nonetheless.

Kuroko sighs one last time, before joining Aomine in his car to pick up Kise-kun.

 

* * *

 

Akashi leaned back on his chair, sipping on another glass of deep red wine as he settled onto an unoccupied table in the corner of the spacious hall. Formalities were so stifling, it was a wonder he still put up with this life of his. More than capable to do anything of his liking, Akashi could easily have cut off all ties to his family business. But nope, he was an only son, and had to show up or tarnish the family image. Thank gods he was nice and respectful enough to do that.

It was going to be a long night, Akashi thought, setting his glass down to loosen his sanguine tie. He scanned the near crowd with his emperor eye, hoping to catch something worth his interest.

 

* * *

Kuroko fingered at the sleeves of his stiffly starched suit, missing the familiar weight and texture of the cuffs that would usually hug his wrist. Pushing down the urge to fiddle with his ear, or roll his tongue one more time, he shifted in his seat, restless. It’s not as if anyone would notice his presence. His pale hair was pale enough to divert all attention in the whiteness of the wedding, and so was his white suit. No one sees him anyway, especially without the piercings and the defining clothing that Kuroko oddly felt more comfortable in.

He didn’t even know whose wedding he was attending, but he had to. It was a family friend’s business partner or some other unimportant distant relationship, probably of Teiko Inc. Judging from the scale of the event, it was probably a sub division of the Rakuzan branch, headed by the Akashi family. Getting up to avoid nearly getting sat on (for the third time in an hour), Kuroko made his way to a small standing table at the side of the hall, picking up a glass of apple juice on his way.

The people at the wedding were hardly interesting, just more of the rich first class individuals. Kuroko got ready for another few hours of getting overlooked, already bored out of his mind.

* * *

 

 

“Champagne?”

A voice startles Kuroko out of his reverie, causing him to drop his glass in shock. A redhead gracefully catches the falling glass, with only a splash of juice on a white glove to prove it had even fallen in the first place. A dipped head looked up, and pale blue eyes were met with smirking red and gold.

“Ah, apple juice. Wonderful taste you have.”

The redhead resumes, causing Kuroko to blush.

Akashi smirks, and Kuroko can’t tell whether the strange feeling is upon the realisation that HE CAN SEE HIM or because of said smirk.

“Thank you…?”

“Seijuurou. It’s my pleasure to meet you,” Akashi takes one of Kuroko’s hands, planting a gentle kiss on his knuckles, before looking up through his lashes, eyes gleaming.

“K-k-kuroko. The pleasure is mine, Seijuurou-san” Kuroko stammers, as Akashi rose to his full height.

Kuroko looks at Akashi properly, takes in the studs that remain on his face, the silver rings adorning his digits, and barely refrains from gaping.

* * *

 

If not for the hair -- Akashi's red with orange highlights, Kuroko's light blue with darker undertones -- the eyes, and the slight difference in height, they could have been twins, Akashi notes.

His emperor eye picks up a few minor differences, such as the slightly pinker hue on Kuroko's face (Is he _blushing_?), the slight difference in hair length (Kuroko's was slightly longer at the front), and the way they carried themselves, but still.

Letting an amused smile slip onto his face, Akashi turns his attention back on the bluenette.

"Shall we-?"

"-Oi Tetsu, who's this?"

* * *

 

Kuroko didn't know whether to thank or to murder Aomine for interrupting.

A glance at the murderous look Akashi was shooting Aomine made up Kuroko's mind. He would be grateful, at least for now, sespecially since Akashi seemed more than capable of murdering Aomine alone.

 

"You must be Aomine Daiki," Akashi edges, tone sharp.

Aomine grunts a yes, "Did Tetsu mention me? Hey Tetsu, he's almost as short as-"

Needless to say, Aomine finds himself on the floor the next instant,

"No, he didn't, actually," Akashi continues, "But your reputation precedes you."

 

Akashi turned back to face Kuroko.

"I apologise for my conduct, I hope to see you again sometime soon."

He says it with a tone and expression full of seriousness, but Kuroko is sure he can see fire in his eyes, in the gold on candlelight, in the red one a furnace.

It takes Kuroko a few seconds to follow Akashi after he slips out of the hall.

 

**TBC**


	2. Metamorphoses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again.

Kuroko barely manages to catch a flash of red as he burst out the door.

He had no idea how Seijuurou had managed it, walking through the crowd with such ease you’d think the crowd parted for him. Kuroko on the other hand, had the opposite effect on crowds. Despite always being overlooked, people seemed to have an unconscious tendency to block his path.

He bursts out the doors, really not his style, ignoring Aomine’s slightly frantic “Tetsu! OI TETSU!” in favour of pursuing a certain redhead.

 

 

* * *

 

Akashi walks to the lobby, loosening his tie as he enters the lift. He shrugs off his suit jacket as the doors started to close, but a flurry of teal and hurried footsteps instinctively made Akashi jam his hand between the closing doors.

His eyes widened slightly when the doors parted to reveal Kuroko, flushed and panting slightly, teal hair cutely mussed. Akashi cocked his head to the side, partly to signal to the smaller male to get in, partly so he could give one of his trademark smirks.

Red creeps up Kuroko’s cheeks as he enters, half embarrassed, half just shocked that Seijuurou had managed to notice him even through the crack between the elevator doors. Hell, most people couldn’t see him even if he was right in front of their faces. The doors close, for real this time, and Seijuurou bends over, deftly picking up his fallen suit jacket and folding it over his forearm in a single graceful motion. Heterochromatic eyes look up at Kuroko as Akashi rises, the lines of lean muscles shifting below the rather see-through dress shirt as he leans into the mirror that lines the elevator walls. Kuroko is well acquainted with this kind of people, self-assured and confident and never in want. Kuroko has seen Seijuurou’s type, he knows all too well how they never stick around, after all, he had seen how just one break up had destroyed Kise-kun, seen the ever-smiling Kise reduced to sobbing in dark corners for weeks. Even Aomine and his only half reluctant offers of one-on-ones couldn’t get Kise to the other side of locked doors.  Kuroko lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and convinces himself that Seijuurou is different.

“What floor?” Akashi breaks the silence.

Kuroko looks up at the buttons, “Top floor.”          

It is then that he notices that the button was already lit, and that the corners of Seijuurou’s mouth were ever so slightly turned up in a ghost of a grin.

The door opens then, and Seijuurou holds it open yet again as Kuroko steps out, brushing against Seijuurou’s outstretched arm.

“See you,” Akashi says, and Kuroko thinks it could not have been more ironic. See you indeed.

“It was nice meeting you,” he replies instead.

They walk in opposite directions along the corridor, but Akashi swears he could feel a pair of eyes watching him the whole way.

 

 

* * *

 

The door swings shut behind Akashi, as the lights to his suite flicker on a split second later. Everything was as he had left it, paperwork arranged neatly in stacks on the table placed behind a window that overlooked the city, laptop charging on pristine white sheets. He sighs, remembering the long list of tasks he had yet to complete. His phone chooses to buzz just then, the glowing screen displaying a message from his father stating that he still had 3 reports due the next day.

There is an old saying that goes “no rest for the weary”. Akashi had never agreed with its implications, personally finding that it made little sense. Why would the weary not be able to rest? And wouldn’t it apply to anyone, really, since Akashi could hardly fathom how anyone could not be weary of the world. People were very much predictable, their intentions and lies all too clear to Akashi. With such knowledge, it was excruciatingly dull and simple to make his own name in the business world, as Akashi Seijuurou and not just The Akashi Heir. But as an Akashi, any sign of weariness could not be allowed to show. There was an image to maintain, as well as the Akashi name and reputation to uphold.

Perhaps “no rest for the wicked” would have made more sense, but Akashi can’t be sure. The choices he made in his life, as well as his lifestyle, left no room for regrets or musings of “what if”, and he cannot imagine anyone losing sleep over the past,

Speaking of sleep, Akashi should really get started on the reports if he wanted to catch a few winks that night. He hangs up his jacket, undoing his tie completely as he runs a hand through his hair. Unwilling to change out of his attire just yet, he rolls up the sleeves of his dress jacket, unbuttoning the top few buttons.

 

* * *

 

 

The clock read 00:00, and Akashi was only halfway through with his third and last proposal.

 _Father will be disappointed_. Akashi thinks ruefully, recalling the last time he had failed to submit a report on time.

It had happened just before he entered high school, and it was the only time he had failed to complete an entire project, and Akashi did not want to face his father’s punishment ever again. He still remembers how it hurt to even move after it was over, how he had to impromptu his entire speech at Rakuzan High as the perfect scorer on the entrance exams after a whole night of hell.

“Weariness is not an excuse, Seijuurou,” his father had reprimanded him. “You _will_ do what I tell you to.”

His father had then shown him what sort of circumstances would have excused him from being unable to complete his assignments, and true to his word, he left Akashi unable to do anything. There wasn’t a single visible mark left on Akashi, of course.

 

Akashi reminds himself that Father was out of the country, and that today was an improvement from then. Akashi knew he could have the last report done before the sun rises, and the previous two reports had already been edited and forwarded to the relevant parties. Perhaps Father would be less harsh this time.

He rises to get his third cup of green tea within the last couple of hours, tracing the light blue veins in the porcelain cup as the warmth meets his hands. The steam billows in under the air conditioning, and diffuses quickly into the cooler air. It reminds him of Kuroko, the blue adorning the otherwise pure white cup, the wisps of steam in the air. He recalls noting the line of clear earsticks that was barely covered by blue hair, the aperture that would sometimes show as his mouth forms certain words. It distracts him in a way Akashi is not used to. After all, the bluenet hadn’t really done anything particularly outstanding.

Akashi quickly finishes up the rest of his report, reads through it thrice, and sends it out, before lying on the bed as the moonlight casts faint shadows through the window. He finds that he can’t sleep though. It happens quite frequently nowadays – Akashi finding himself unable to sleep, body so tired but mind completely awake – and Akashi prepares himself for a long night of staring at the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

 

Finally, the next morning comes, and Akashi ditches formal wear for the outfit he had brought to change into -- slightly distressed black jeans, his favourite jacket, and a white printed tee with slashes of red and splatters of black. He swaps around some rings, replaces the more civilised piercings with his more favoured ones. Weaving his fingers through his hair to work through any tangles,, he slings his rather plain (but one that nevertheless still manages to complement him) newsboy bag over his shoulder, and leaves the room…

Only to run into Kuroko of all people.

Akashi takes a sharp breath, and Kuroko turns around.

“Seijuurou-san,” he says, soft and tentative, eyes averted slightly to the side of Akashi’s face instead of meeting his gaze.

Akashi startles at his first name, before recalling that it was the name he had introduced himself as. He takes in Kuroko’s appearance slowly, eyes trailing up and down his figure. Kuroko donned black pants covered in straps and sequins, a black shirt advertising some band in bright indigo scrawls. Studded cuffs adorned his neck and circled his wrists. Lines of mesmerising blue ink peeked out from beneath his sleeves and collar, while a tarnished silver ring trembled as Kuroko gnawed at his lower lip.

“You look…”  
Kuroko grimaces slightly, expecting more of what he had been hearing for the past decade. That he looked as it he was trying too hard, too attention seeking, or so very uncouth. He was not expecting the words that came out of Seijuurou’s mouth.

“Great.”

Kuroko gaped at Seijuurou, wide-eyed.

“Do you mean that?”

Akashi’s head tilts to the side, a tinge of confusion colouring his features.

“Of course I do,” he states matter-of-factly, eyes searching and taking in all the planes and angles of Kuroko’s face.

“Why would I lie to you?”

 

Akashi doesn’t realise his hand had moved up to touch Kuroko’s face until his fingers were spread across one pale cheek and his thumb fingering the lip ring.

“Yesterday, why-“

Akashi pauses, feeling the bluenet tense, then relax under his fingertips.

“I- My parents don’t really approve of,” he gestures vaguely at himself, “Of this. Of me.”

Akashi raises an eyebrow, registering the conflicting emotions in Kuroko’s eyes. There was sadness there, pure and raw, with an edge of fear and guilt and bitterness. Akashi’s other hand instinctively rises to cup Kuroko’s face, and looking into cerulean eyes he whispers, “They should appreciate you more.”

And in a totally non-Akashi way, he drops his arms to wrap Kuroko in a hug. Akashi being Akashi had picked up on all the little fleeting changes that had crossed Kuroko’s otherwise blank features.

 

To Akashi’s surprise, Kuroko leans into his embrace, arms rising slightly to rest at Akashi’s sides. Kuroko couldn’t believe it himself either, but he couldn’t care less in that moment, not with the feeling of relief and acceptance flooding his insides.

Akashi then steps back, and Kuroko feels the jarring loss of warmth and the solid presence that was Akashi.

The lift doors slide open, and Kuroko realises that it had reached their floor.

 

“Would you like a ride?” Akashi offers as the lift descends.

“I wouldn’t want to impose-“

“You wouldn’t be, I rather enjoy your company, Kuroko.”

“I- thank you, Seijuurou-san.”

“Please, just call me Seijuurou.”

“…Very well, Please call me Tetsuya, then, Seijuurou-kun.”

Akashi looks at Kuroko long and hard, before letting out a small chuckle.

“You’re really something, aren’t you, Tetsuya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the (very) late update.  
> I actually finished it a while back but took a really long time to edit it.  
> Taking advantage of the long weekend now to finish editing and update!
> 
> Enjoy~


	3. Twists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter Kise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is starting to turn really self-indulgent. oops. 
> 
> Also Kuroko is probably OOC, can I just blame that on Akashi's hug?  
> I mean, anyone would be OOC if Akashi hugged them, right? XD
> 
> hope you enjoy it anyways, even though this chapter is mostly a filler.  
> 

“Akashi-sama, would you require any-“

Kuroko could see Seijuurou’s eyes darken, and his tone when he opens his mouth to speak is piercing cold, so unlike his spoken words within the elevator.

“No, that wouldn’t be necessary,” Seijuurou interrupts, words underlined with suppressed fire, before striding past the hotel staff, away from the grandiose main entrance.

“I hope you don’t mind walking a bit, Tetsuya.”

 

* * *

 

Their ride turned out to be a bike.

A really _wicked_ bike.

The bike wasn’t particularly large or loud or special, but it had red and gold accents adorning the pitch black in just the right places, and Kuroko couldn’t help but be impressed in how well-kept the bike seemed.

A helmet is thrown in his direction, and Kuroko turns to see Seijuurou donning his own, messy red hair disappearing beneath the helmet. He turns to meet Kuroko’s gaze, and he can see the ice melt from the redhead’s eyes as he chuckled, the right side of his lip curling up slightly.

“Were you expecting a limousine? Sorry to disappoint.”

Kuroko shoves Akashi playfully, the jocular tone in his words more than apparent, and they start to mount the bike.

…the bike that wasn’t particularly large.

Well, crap, Kuroko was screwed.

 

* * *

 

Kuroko coughs, a hand unconsciously sweeping his hair back before the finally settles the helmet on his head.

“Let me help you with that,” Akashi says, and Kuroko swallows deeply, barely managing a nod.

He swears he can see a mischievous twinkle in Akashi’s eye. Scratch that, Kuroko is certain Seijuurou knows what he is doing to him, but he stays still as hands brush his jaw, adjusting the fit of the helmet. And if the hands had lingered for a split second longer than necessary, Kuroko absolutely wouldn’t have noticed.

“Where to?” Akashi turns, as he starts the engine.

Kuroko barely recalls the address before he utters it, but he feels Akashi tense at his words.

“Seijuurou-kun?”

“Ah… It’s nothing. Unit 5 of Kiseki Residence?”

“Mmm,” Kuroko affirms, but he cannot shake off the feeling that something was off.

Kiseki Residence was a rather lavish piece of property, perhaps that was what had caught Seijuurou off guard.

“Ano, I don’t live there. I just owed a friend a visit.”

Akashi stays silent, instead pulling out into the driveway.

“Hold on.”

As if Kuroko needed encouragement to slip his hands around the red head.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the journey is fairly uneventful. _Fairly._

They barely made conversation, words short of shouts would be hard to hear with the wind in their ears, after all, and speaking would be tedious even with hair gel or wax taking care of any loose hairs flying into their mouths.

The road itself was a different story though. It was as if the universe was laughing at Kuroko, ensuring that the bike hits every bump on the twisting road, if that wasn’t bad enough. Akashi was a speed demon, and he drove as if he wanted to burn a trail on the road. Turns were at high speed, and slowing down was unheard of.

Kuroko was not scared. He could feel the coil of muscles beneath Akashi’s jacket, the control and calm he drove with, his gaze as he glances on the sidewise mirrors and the turns ahead, and Kuroko has never felt more safe or assured than in that moment, holding on to Akashi.

However the speed meant that every bump simply jolts Kuroko against Akashi’s’ back, each turn leaving him clinging on tighter as the bike tilts.

He is glad when they reach Kiseki Residences, yet he can’t help but wish the road had been longer.

“It was nice meeting you, Tetsuya,” Seijuurou states as the bike slows down.

A foot plants itself firmly on the ground, supporting the bike as Kuroko dismounts.

“Likewise, Seijuurou-kun.”

…

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I better get going now. See you around, Tetsuya.”

“I look forward to it.”

Seijuurou throws Kuroko one more cheeky grin, before speeding off.

 

* * *

 

“Kurokocchi!!!” A blond flies out of the door, tackling Kuroko and trapping him in a hug.

“Oi Kise, control yourself,” Kuroko hears Aomine’s familiar drawl.

“But it’s Kurokocchi!!”

“It’s nice to see you too, Kise-kun. But I’m having difficulty breathing so-“

Kise finally relents, stepping back, but as he takes in Kuroko’s appearance, his expression freezes.

“Kise-kun?”

“Kurokocchi… who’s helmet are you wearing?”

“Ah, someone gave me a ride here.”

“He doesn’t seem the type…”

“Pardon?”

“It was Akashicchi, right? Seijuurou Akashi was the one who offered you a ride?”

“Yes… how did Kise-kun-“

“I’d recognise- Ah that’s not important. Let’s go inside! Aominecchi brought over doughnuts yesterday, and we still have ice cream cake!”

Kise spins around, skipping into the house shrieking for Aominecchi and getting ignored before Kuroko could react, leaving behind a trail of imaginary glitter.

* * *

 

Kuroko shakes his head. He had caught the abrupt change of subject, but he decides not to press Kise for details. At least, not just yet.

Seijuurou had seemed familiar after all, perhaps time would allow Kuroko to recall something about the red-haired scion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems kind of rushed or short.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually unclear on what 'punk' defines, but after many google searches it seems to be about right?  
> Sorry if I got it wrong, though


End file.
